


Tokens

by daisydiversions



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8668468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisydiversions/pseuds/daisydiversions
Summary: "I don't have a secret admirer," Yuuri hisses.





	

“I don't have a secret admirer,” Yuuri hisses. He's manfully hiding in one of the bathroom stalls on the far side of the practice arena, trying not to drop his phone card, mobile, or the brightly colored package he found in his locker after practice.

“Yeah, you do,” Phichit laughed over the line. “Now, what did they get you this time, big shot?”

“I'm not a big shot,” Yuuri insisted, playing with the red ribbon tied around the box nervously. “I only made it into the final by a couple of points. Someone probably left this by accident.”

“And the hot cocoa yesterday?” Yuuri can practically hear his eyebrow arch and Yuuri flushes.

“Maybe they've mixed up my stall with someone else's.”

Phichit hums thoughtfully. “Or they saw you bend over in your Under Armor leggings.”

“Stop it,” Yuri says, trying to bite down his laugh. “Aaaah, what is it like to have the hips of a pop star?”

“I'm hanging up,” Yuuri warns him.

“And now you have groupies like one, too, but I still have more followers on Instagram!”

" _Goodbye_ ,” Yuuri says, face hot around his blush. 

Phichit giggles. He's probably curled up in bed at the dorm in Detroit and would be perfectly justified to resent Yuuri for getting to the Final first.

Instead, he's the best friend Yuuri has ever had and Yuuri has to fight to prove that he's deserving of any of it-- the Final, Phichit, Coach, the support of everyone at home… a fan. 

He just doesn't want to let them all down.

“Hey,” Phichit says, serious and gentle. “Do great.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathes out. Simple. 

“And score high so I have something to aim for when we're there together next year!” Phichit adds in a chirp.

“Yeah,” Yuuri smiles at that thought. “Together.”

He ends the call and is alone with the box. 

It's thin, rectangular, light, and feels like a live grenade in his hand. 

He picks at the corner of the wrapping, carefully peeling back the tape and folding back the paper.

Inside is something with Russian writing on it and an illustration of a baby girl with a scarf around her head and when he pulls back that packaging, Yuuri can smell chocolate before he sees it.

His nutritionist would kill him. 

_Minako-sensei_ would kill him.

He breaks off a corner and feels guilty just as long as it takes for him to pop it into his mouth. Then he's too busy wishing he could marry this chocolate bar to worry about his failed diet plan, his failed quad salchow, or his failed mental strength.

He leans forward until his forehead bumps metal, just letting the creamy sweetness sit on his tongue until his shaky breathes smooth out. 

He folds the rest of it back up as carefully as he can, wrapping paper folded and tucked into the box, before stepping out to wash his hands. 

When he gets back to the locker room to collect his gear, Yakov is going over some sort of chart and looking very stern while Victor is--

Yuuri looks away before he can see what Victor is doing (other than emphatically not paying his coach any attention). 

He bites his lip and keep his head down, hurriedly packing up his things to leave, chocolate tucked into one of the pockets. 

Shouldering the bag and grabbing his skates, Yuuri shuffles his way out as quickly as he can. 

Even with his head ducked, he catches sight of himself in one of the mirrors and flushes when he sees chocolate on his face.

If he fails in this tournament, he can imagine the headlines, saying he was pigging out all week on Russian junk food, not taking the competition seriously, a disgrace to all of Japan!

Hopefully, no one took a picture yet…

He licks at the smears in the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue and a couple of times over his lips just in case. They're a little chapped from being in the rink extra hours, but seem fine otherwise.

He sighs and gets himself together again, heart still pounding at the close call.

On his way out, he hears Yakov ask if Victor is even paying attention and Victor respond with an absent hum.

Yuuri resists looking back. It has nothing to do with him after all.


End file.
